Four Winds Lookout Tower - Islay

I returned to Islay last month to spend the better part of a week. The highlight of the trip was the place where I stayed, the Four Winds Lookout Tower. It is a former coast guard facility that has been renovated into stunning, self-catering accommodation. Standing high above Pornahaven, at the tip of the Rinns of Islay peninsula, it has an expansive view overlooking the lighthouse island of Orsay and the far-off coast of Ireland. In the first photo, the tower is visible on the hill above Portnahaven.

The view from the top-floor bedroom was breathtaking. It was like being in the wheelhouse of a ship at sea. Centerstage was Orsay Island, home to the Rinns of Islay Lighthouse. Each day's end was marked at twilight, when the light started flashing every five seconds; flashes that continued until daybreak.

The ground floor has a fully equipped kitchen and a combined shower/toilet room, another echo of a ship at sea. 

The top-floor bedroom was reached by a near-vertical ladder, one that reminded me of the steep stairs down to the cabins on many of the ships I'd been on over the years.

Every night but one was a peaceful paradise. On the third night, I was woken by a loud banging on the door. Wondering what the hell was going on, I climbed down the ladder and looked out the door. I found myself face-to-face with a dozen sheep, their noses pressed up to the tower, who'd found a place to shelter from the wind.

Four Winds is truly unique, and I hope to return someday. Adding to the appeal, a friendly pub, An Tigh Seinnse, is a short walk away.

For more information on Four Winds, the website is: https://www.fourwindsislay.co.uk/

Private Roy Muncaster - R.I.P.

While on Islay last week, I made my way to Kilnaughton Military Cemetery, a mile west of Port Ellen. It's a small cemetery, with around a dozen tombstones. Many tourists pass by the cemetery without even knowing it's there, when they drive the hilly single track to the Mull of Oa. For, it is on the Mull that you'll find the American Monument: a sixty-foot-tall stone tower that commemorates the Otranto disaster off the shore of Kilchoman in 1918 and the sinking of the Troopship Tuscania by the UB-77 earlier that year. (For more on the Otranto, see the October 11, 2019 post.)

The Kilnaughton Military Cemetery lies above the beach, northeast of the burial ground that surrounds the fifteenth-century ruin of the chapel of St Nechtan. The only American still interred in the military cemetery is Roy Muncaster, a Private in the US Army, who perished when Tuscania was torpedoed. Before joining the Army, Muncaster had been a forest ranger in the Olympic Mountains of Washington State, where the 5,910-foot-high Muncaster Mountain, fifty miles west of my home in Seattle, is named for him. With the lone exception of Muncaster, all the American victims of the Otranto and Tuscania disasters were returned to the States or buried in the American Military Cemetery in Surrey. Muncaster’s parents wanted him to remain where he died, here on beautiful Islay.

Book Launch and More

The details for the launch of my next book, Thirty Years of Adventures in Search of the Past: Skye and the Small Isles, have been finalised. It will be held at the Portree Library on Thursday, August 20, at 6 pm. If you are on Skye at the time, I hope you can make it. The book tells the stories of three decades of journeys to Skye and its neighbours, including the Small Isles, Raasay, Rona, and the islands of Gavin Maxwell. An outline map of the contents can be found below.

On another note, I am happy to have been asked to supply an article for the first issue of the Islands Book Trust's relaunch of Scottish Islands Explorer. Once a publication date is known, I will pass it on.

Thirty Years of Adventures in Search of the Past: Skye & The Small Isles

I am happy to announce that Volume 2 of the Thirty Years of Adventures Series, Skye & the Small Isles, is to be published by the Islands Book Trust this summer. It will be the same format as Volume 1 (The Outer Hebrides) and will include a large selection of colour photos. A launch event in August is being planned, possibly in the Portree area. I will post an announcement once the details have been firmed up.

Scottish Islands Explorer - Start of Another Era

I've learned that Scottish Islands Explorer will live on, as the Islands Book Trust has acquired the rights to publish the magazine. It has yet to be decided, but it will probably be an annual or bi-annual publication. 

To quote from the latest Islands Book Trust Newsletter:

We became aware in late September 2025 that Scottish Islands Explorer, a high-quality magazine published six times a year carrying articles and wonderful photographs of Scottish islands, was ceasing production. The magazine has gone through several changes in ownership and location over the last quarter of a century, starting in Fair Isle (Shetland) and latterly run from Lewis under the auspices of Intermedia Services (Stornoway) Ltd. There have been close links between previous owners of SIE and IBT for many years. 

Following discussion with the previous owner, IBT has therefore decided to step into the breach by acquiring the right to continue publishing Scottish Islands Explorer, albeit in a radically different version from the previous format and business model. This is because we believe there is considerable synergy between the aims of SIE and those of IBT, and the interests of previous SIE subscribers and members of IBT. Like many others, we would be sad to see it cease altogether.

I am delighted that the magazine, which has meant so much to me over the past 20 years, will live on thanks to the Book Trust. Please consider joining the Trust - for more information on how to do so see the following link.

https://islandsbooktrust.org/pages/membership

Scottish Islands Explorer Magazine - End of an Era

I recently learned that Scottish Islands Explorer magazine has ceased production, and that the October 2025 issue will be its last. The magazine has had four owners during its 26-year run, producing over 150 issues. It was founded in 2000 on Fair Isle by Linda Grieve and Peter Welch. I was so delighted when I discovered the publication in 2002 and could read about those far-off islands that I'd become enamoured with over the years. It was Linda who accepted an article I'd written about North Rona, which was the first time I'd managed to get something published.

In 2007, the magazine was sold to Jeremy Smith, who lived part-time on Jura. During his tenure, the magazine had its best cover: a dramatic photo of a RIB in the swirling waters of Corryvreackan.

Jeremy Smith died unexpectedly in 2010, and the magazine was sold to John Humphries. I met John in 2008, when we were both contributing stories to the magazine. Since then, we've met up in several places around the world: Seattle, Kirkwall, Ardveg of Lewis, and the Shiants, to name just a few. The magazine thrived during John's ten years at the helm, and he produced some 60 issues.

In 2019, John sold the magazine to Fred Silver, of Intermedia Services based in Stornoway. During their six-year run, they produced over 30 issues. Sadly, their subscriber base diminished over those years to the point that the business, as is the case with print media in general these days, was no longer financially viable.

I want to thank all four generations of the magazine's owners. It provided a venue for those who love the islands to share that love with readers around the world. I am sad to see it go.

As I stood on the Bridge to Nowhere last July, I did some time-travelling. I could see myself, 27 years younger, standing on that very spot, as I set out on one of my first long-distance Hebridean walks, the 12-mile trek along the coast to Ness. The agenda for my walk this time was not as ambitious. It was a sweltering hot day, and I only wanted to hike the first three miles of that route to the rock stack of Dùn Othail.

Once over the bridge, I came to a way-marker sign that had not been there when I last came this way. As I would soon discover, the route is now extensively dotted with marker posts, which made for an easier hike than I'd had last time.

The first mile of the walk is along a dirt track. It initially headed due east, with sweeping views back to the vast curve of Tràigh Ghearadha. Also to be seen at the far end of the beach was the hundred-foot-tall rock stack of Caisteal a' Mhorair, the Nobleman's Castle, capped with the ruin of a small fort.

The road turned to the north, then abruptly ended at a concrete bridge over Abhainn na Cloich, the river of stone. This little bridge marks the end of Lord Leverhulme's planned road to Ness.

Right after the bridge, a marker post indicated a 90-degree turn to the right was called for. Back in 1998, I'd gone straight here, which led to an hour of slow bog hopping. After making the turn, I followed a boot-beaten path to the east. After cresting a rise, Dùn Othail came into sight.

A bonus of following the marked route was that it went past a beehive cell I'd missed on the walk in 1998. It looked to still be occasionally used, as it had a tin roof that covered spots where the corbelled roof had collapsed. According to the 1880 OS map, there were another five cells near here, but I was unable to find them.

From the beehive, it was a short walk to a spectacular overlook of Dùn Othail. There is a ruin near its base, possibly a chapel, that I wanted to see if I could reach. Easier said than done, for the terrain facing the stack was cloaked in deep heather. Walking through the heather was treacherous, as it hid lurking holes, ready to break your leg if you weren't careful.

After slowly making my way down the steep slope, I was able to see part of the ledge that was the site of the possible chapel (centre of the next photo).

Not only was the steep slope covered in thick heather, but its lower reaches had sections of sheer rock, with a direct drop to the surging sea. There was no safe way to get anywhere close to the ledge, so I scrambled back to the top. There had been a fort on the stack at one time, manned by the Morrisons of Ness. It was here at Dùn Othail that one of the leap tales of Hebridean folklore occurred, that of Leum Mhic Neacail, MacNicol's Leap. Here is one version of the tale, which is identical to the story of Gorrie's Leap on Mull.

A MacNicol was castrated for some misdeed. Seeking revenge, he kidnapped the infant son of the chief who had sentenced him to this punishment. His pursuers almost had him in their grasp when he managed to get up onto Dùn Othail. Dangling the child over the sea, MacNicol had some bargaining power. He demanded that the chief castrate himself; otherwise, he would drop the child on the rocks. The chief did as demanded, and once MacNicol saw the bloody proof, he shouted, "I will have no heir, and neither will you." He then jumped off the rock, killing himself and the infant.

It was now time to turn around, as I was going to hike part of the north end of the path the following day (see the August 12th post). After retracing my steps back to the Bridge to Nowhere, I made my way down to take a close look at the sea stacks of Tràigh Ghearadha. 

The largest stack, nearly a hundred feet high, is Caisteal a' Mhorair, the Nobleman's Castle. At its top are the ruins of a small fortification and, like the stack of An Coroghan (The Prison) on Canna, the only access is via a steep, turf- and rock-covered slope that you can see at the centre of the next photo.

I am too old these days to attempt the climb. But there was still something spectacular to see, as the stack is pierced by a cave that is accessible at low tide. Fortunately, although the tide was on the rise, the cave was still reachable.

The rising tide was starting to flood the cave, but I made it through without getting too wet.

As I drove away from the Bridge to Nowhere, I recalled the first time I was there, on a May day in 1997. It was, in a sense, a sad day, as our vacation was at an end, and I did not have time to make the long walk to Ness. It was a walk I had to do, so I came back a year later to do it, as recounted in Chapter 7.2 of Thirty Years of Adventures in Search of the Past: The Outer Hebrides. It is one of the supreme Hebridean hikes that can be done in a day, and along the way you'll encounter several shieling sites, some still in use, along with a view of Dun Othail, and the evocative ruins of Dune Tower and its cliff-top chapel.